Two examples of this are Medicare and VISTA.  Medicare is a program, still in existence today, whose goals are to provide federal funding to citizens over 65 in order to help pay for medical expenses.  With the elderly having one of the highest rates of poverty in the nation and this was in large part due to high medical costs, the most sensible solution would be to provide the elderly with some financial help with their own medical costs.  VISTA on the other hand is not targeted towards a specific age groups, but instead is targeted towards a particular socio-economic group, the poor.  VISTA’s main goals were to serve as a kind of domestic Peace Corp,  sending educated and willing volunteers to areas of America feelings the effects of poverty.  Once in these locations  the volunteers would help to establish educational programs as well as programs that help to teach vocational skills to the members of the community.  While VISTA and Medicare were very different in terms of their target demographic, their goals on the betterment of American society were shared.

The light, the light is gone, why? It once illuminated the night sky with its seductive warming glow but now it lay dormant, deceased, swaying within the heavens, only mild traces of the titian mark its existence as it now belongs to me, it is mine, but yet, it glows no more, as my soul is consumed by the ever starving black flame. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

   In the beginning, life was reasonable. I would complete my day to day tasks, overcoming the hurdles which life would place within my way, simply keeping my equilibrium stable, constantly attempting to balance my life with the crushing weight of collage and still manage to get a decent grade at the end of the mock exams, couldn’t complain really. A constant get together with friends and acquaintances would revitalise the soul from time to time whilst perusing my dream of working within the performing arts would supply me with a reason to combat these daily challenges, a reason to live.

   The chain of events seemingly began at the entrance of a distinctively familiar looking house in the middle of an unfamiliar road, as we were to film another one of our somewhat harmless videos just for the sheer joy of being watched within the blooming world of amateur media, and also, for the enjoyment of simply creating something productive together with your friends, something to do, something to potentially impress your media tutor with, or just something to take your mind off the rather repetitive coursework. Now, this video wasn’t just a simple rather pathetic random collection of thrown together ideas like the previous ones, this one was going to be a horror. A task we have challenged ourselves with ever since we received the equipment, but before now we never had the opportunity to achieve such an atmosphere needed to make the scenes successful. As I said, this house was in the middle of a nearby street, derelict and chard after a fire ravaged it, a domestic carcass by the roadside. Hid from public view and squandered by society as the events within the story of the blaze remove any chances of re-animation or restoration for the building. Yet it cried our names, screaming through rust steel bars, depicting us as the ones who shall plunder its treasure trove of psychologically disturbing brilliance. We were going to make this work, and create something mystical in the process, or was that the write word for the situation?

   Making my way down was the easy part, simple cover stories or misguided information masked my location from the rest of the world so we could investigate in private, without worry or a care in the world. The air was rather thick down that seemingly endless road, distinctive traces of copper and lead caressed my senses, disorientating me, distorting my sense of direction, making me swerve, tilting slightly as I gradually quicken my pace, I wanted to get there, I just wanted to see it. Breathing became a slight burden at that point, my asthmatic state and large shape only amplified my symptoms, blurred vision and light headedness were certainly not positive signs, but the reasons for this were seemingly unexplainable. I couldn’t tell if it was fear, concern for my well being or the atmosphere of the location but doubt began to plague my judgment, should I continue, should I just make up an excuse? As always, my curious nature and sense of belonging within the filming group aided me in making my rather one sided decision. Although at this point my motives lay slightly distorted within the confines of my inner self. The eagerly self-asked questions enforcing the reasons for, whilst removing the reasons against leaving confused me, worried me and lead me into a frantic, paranoid state, so after that point I removed all negative thoughts, or attempted to at least, to give myself a chance to gaze upon its daunting beauty, falling back into the world of the surreal, because life just simply wasn’t enough…

   Before any potentially stable thoughts could be constructed within my head, which would give me a potentially stable reason to leave I had arrived at my destination. This was the first time I had ever laid eyes on it, well saying that it was the first time I had ever been on this street. First impressions sent out indistinguishable mixed feelings. It was intimidatingly beautiful, perfect for our goal of filming something scary, as it mimicked the houses we had seen in our most favoured horror films. I was captured by its gaze, held in suspended animation. The roof was completely decimated, open top, allowing light spill into its innards whilst being repelled by overpowering radiant darkness, originating from the rooms within as all other entrances had been boarded up, no light, no heat could enter the building except for the very top of it, our established target for the day. Although burned and battered the house stood tall with proud foundations, watching over the wall which separated it from the rest of reality, watching over is protector as the house lay in such a vulnerable state, but yet, at my prospective it seemed as if the wall was built to protect the people which live on the other side of it, the impressions it gave out where more aggressive than recessive. The skin of the house was thick and splintered, war paint and battle wounds, it had won the battle but it was seemingly left as if it hadn’t, left to rot, technically derelict but still semi vertical, still inhabitable, still a house but now it was technically rubble. The smell of metal and chard timber within the haziness of my current state frightened me; it smelled industrial, whilst the area was simple, old, giving the impression that events had taken place over that wall even after the fire, something rather professional. It might have just been a demolition crew or some other organisation intertwined with the house’s legal issues, as unlikely as it sounded I used that excuse to ease my fear, as I stepped closer to the surging black gates of oblivion.

   I had organised this event with my close friend Dan, well he organised it actually, and he had to do a lot of convincing for me to even contemplate the idea. We were two typical lifelong friends facing life together within a group of seemingly random individuals, tied down by the pressures of collage and bound together by our nerdish, innuendo filled past. Dan was tall and thin in a nutshell, never without his glasses, light skinned, light haired, light headed at times but we were the best of friends. His passion for technology led him to create his own working computer with many overclock upgrades and modifications, littered with programmes and installations it was impressive. This passion also extended into the entertainment part of this technological era, he wished to create digital worlds, so people could inebriate themselves within the confines of an alternate reality, his alternate reality. I can remember a time where a vision off this sort of thing ran within the imaginations of all our little minds, as we were little children utterly mesmerized by these rather gory moving pictures we decided to make our own game, which kind of became, hints of a lost memory, sad really, but funny when you think about it. Dan was the editor of our vids, after a rather long day of nonsense and harmless shenanigans he would simply sit back and piece together our spontaneous creativity, he would make the images fit, and he had tried to teach the rest of us how to do it as well but he was the one who possessed the initial skill. So he was a vital member of the group within the editing. We were close friends as I said but that doesn’t mean we didn’t have our more unsavoury moments, our personalities where similar but not the same, as he was what he would call, a troll, or in my definition, an annoying prat, a mongrel, but still, it was all in good fun, apparently. Then there’s Fran, another friend who decided to join us on the exploration, a girl who basically has the instinctive intention of raping anything that has two to four legs. Someone who shares in Dan’s humour, trolling people, although together it’s more flirtatious humour, joke after joke mixed with intertwined innuendos and integrated dirty meanings; we have a laugh together so I guess that’s why we were the ones to enter the house together, as a unit, safety in numbers.

   They told me that they were already going to be inside the house, concerning that I leave collage later than them, so with no obvious means of entry I call to them “Dan?, Danny?, Fran?, hello, are you in there” some people turn towards me as they walk by “come on guys it looks kinda strange if I’m talking to wall, come on I’m attracting a bit of attention out here…” I pan out the area and act according in relation to the other people in the area; I try to blend in, waiting for an answer that might not even come. I lean against the wall to the left of the gate in a rest my head on the crimson metal “guys…” no trace of my friends were to be seen through the strands of solidified, surging disappointment, so I begin to lean away from the fence and turn my back on the crusade, when a cold bony mandible grasps my lower wrist. My heart skips a beat. I inhale a large dose of the powdered steel and descend into a mild coughing fit “Curt! Where ye been, ye twenty minutes late, this place, is, amassing” at this point I feel rather nauseous from the mixture of suspense and the lack of consumable oxygen “I had to take a bit of detour, but I’m here now aren’t i?” just an excuse for my slow walking speed and my lack of motivation for this particular exploration. The only way to the other side was seemingly obvious from my observations throughout our conversation, which was to go over the wall, great, climbing was not one of my strong traits at that point in my life, predictable really when you take into account my incredibly unhealthy lifestyle mixed with slow reflexes as a result of constant digital inebriation, but I wasn’t going to give up without at least trying. I slowly pace towards the gate, blocking all sight of the intruders from the passing pedestrians “Soooo, how did u get over their?” I ask, which was a rather relevant question as I take into account the other member in our exploration, Dan with his height could have easily scaled the intimidating structure but Fran would have had difficulty as she is quite short. Dan points towards the end of the wall in a casual fashion “over there, there is a small opening which we went through, way easier than climbing the bloody thing, try it, you might just fit.” Slightly insulted I pace over to the gap in the wall when a small convoy of casual cars drives by, and parks up at the establishment across the street, which makes me naturally panic. So I pull out my phone and pretend to text. “What ye doing Curt? Hurry up!” whispers Danny, oblivious to the potential threat across the road “be quiet” I whisper back in an agitated sort of way “there’s people and they are looking! Just give me a second!” my breathing becomes a lot smoother for some reason, I have had to act under stressful situations before, being an actor when under pressure I’m not supposed to show any signs of weakness which may break the verisimilitude of the fictional world I am involved in creating, so weirdly being under pressure is the best way to calm me down, I never really understood why. The atmosphere of the situation became calmer, seemed to slow down along with the pace of the war drum in my chest as the people got out of their cars and begin to enter the building, paying no attention to us, we were home free. “Are we OK to go now? Because this next bit might take a while if this doesn’t work curt” this gap wasn’t at ground level, it was on a smaller, accessible wall which I attempted to scale, I grasp it and place my knee on it to get a good grip to lift myself up, gravel pushes against my clothes and into my hands as I attempt to support my weight, soot and powder fill the air with mild toxins with every slip or failed climb attempt, my skin rips and grazes, my shoes grind against the ebony stones as I force myself up, a grand achievement for someone of my stature. now, suspended above the ground i constantly hesitate as my mere presence upon this small platform would come along as being mildly anti-social, especially when im breaking and entering to a condemned building in full view of just about everybody on the street

Thurgood-Marshall, first African-American U.S. Supreme Court Justice

How much do you know about the events and people who have shaped African-American history?

Test Your Knowledge with Daybreak Africa’s Trivia Contest

Today’s Question

Who is the first man in the history of the National Basketball Association (NBA) to score 30,000 points?  

Yesterday’s Question

Who is the first African-American Supreme Court Justice?   ANSWER:  Thurgood Marshall

How to Participate

Listen to Daybreak Africa on the radio or check here on the website.  Every day, Monday through Friday, we will ask our TRIVIA QUESTION OF THE DAY.

call us at +1 202-205-9942.  The winners will be selected from the correct answers received.  Listen to Daybreak Africa each morning to see if you’ve won.

While many Americans are familiar with black slavery in the South during the 19th Century and its role in igniting the nation’s great Civil War, less attention has been paid to the black experience in northern cities such as New York, where so-called “freedmen” lived.

Now, a new book, “Black Gotham,” by University of Maryland Professor Carla Peterson, shines a light on their remarkable stories.

Much of the history of black 19th-Century New York has been lost, in part because it was eclipsed in the popular imagination by the saga of southern slavery. Additionally, mostly-white academic historians minimized the contributions of African-Americans. And no comprehensive archive of black life existed until the 20th Century, when the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture was established.

Peterson’s ancestors were distinguished members of the city’s black elite and she felt theirs was a powerful story that needed to be told. She spent 11 years researching and writing her book.

John T. Consoli’Black Gotham’ author Carla Peterson

“Writing this book was very important to me,” says Peterson. “It was a journey of hard work, but also of love and passion.”

Led by free blacks such as clergyman Alexander Crummell, newspaper editor Charles Ray and businessman George Downing, members of New York’s black elite tried to establish themselves as full Americans, not merely as “Africans” or “coloreds” as black slaves had once been called and called themselves.

Like members of outsider groups before and since, this African-American elite considered education to be the key to full citizenship. They also embraced values of character and responsibility.

“A good, upright moral citizen, valuing temperance, a Protestant ethic of hard work, sobriety and all those kinds of inner values. Respectability then is the outward manifestation of character,” says Peterson. “It’s in your appearance, how you dress, how you comport yourself, especially when you’re out on the streets of New York, and especially with whites. No loud, boisterous behavior but being utterly respectable and respectful.”

‘Black Gotham’ explores the history and contributions of New York’s black elite during the 19th Century.

That didn’t mean the status quo went unchallenged. Peterson’s book describes salon-style meetings in the back of James McCune Smith’s pharmacy. Smith, who was one of antebellum New York’s most important black leaders, hosted lively debates about voting rights for blacks and the abolition of slavery.

Alliances with whites were often forged. And like white New Yorkers, many in “Black Gotham” also wanted to be rich – but success could be fleeting.

“You see black New Yorkers make tremendous gains and then lose. Gains in terms of entrepreneurship, finding a trade, finding a profession, setting down roots, buying property, and feeling they were at last becoming a genuine part of city life. They would refer to ‘color-phobia’ as ‘fast disappearing in our city.’ But then there would be a loss.”

Racial violence was also an issue. Peterson cites a riot in 1834, which began in a chapel where both black and white choirs were scheduled to rehearse at the same time.

“And the white choir went nuts. It was only a pretext, but a race riot broke out, and a lot of black property was damaged. Saint Philip’s Episcopal Church, which was the church of my family, was desecrated.”  

The Draft Riots of July 1863, during the height of the Civil War, were an especially low point in the history of black New York.  When President Abraham Lincoln instituted a military draft, many immigrants, especially the Irish, thought they were being asked to fight and perhaps to die in a war being waged for the benefit of blacks. Angry mobs set out to destroy the dwellings and businesses of the city’s prosperous African-Americans.

But there was also some goodwill between the races. Peterson’s great grandfather owned a pharmacy in a largely Irish neighborhood. He was known as a kind man who gave free medicine and clothes to the poor.

“So they came to see him as a pillar of the community. So at the time of the Draft Riots he was warned to leave. A group of white merchants in the area came to him and said ‘You’d better get out. Your pharmacy is going to be attacked.’ And he said, ‘As many men who are going to come and attack me, there will be as many who come to defend me.’ And that is exactly what happened. His Irish neighbors protected his pharmacy.”

Then as now, New York was an ethnic melting pot, and Peterson says many black New Yorkers saw themselves as citizens of the world. Her own ancestors had roots in England, Haiti, Jamaica, Venezuela, American Indian territory as well as Africa.

She points out that more than a century later, many American blacks still lack the educational and economic opportunities that the mainstream enjoys. But Peterson adds that she has been gratified to learn that many black groups are inspired by the struggles and incremental successes of 19th-Century “Black Gotham.”

Many processed food products today are sweetened with high fructose corn syrup.  But concerns that corn syrup might be contributing to obesity has led many food manufacturers to turn to organic brown rice syrup, believing it to be a healthier alternative to the high fructose corn syrup.  

Now, researchers say that brown rice syrup may be an unintended source of arsenic, a highly toxic metallic element that’s been shown to increase the risk of cancer when present in drinking water.

A researcher at the National Institute of Environmental Health Sciences at Dartmouth University in New Hampshire, Brian Jackson, says scientists were curious about the amount of arsenic in foods consumed by babies.

“Because of their low body weight, if they are exposed to arsenic, then they are exposed to a disproportionately high exposure rate on a high kilogram body weight basis,” Jackson said.

Jackson, who led the study, and colleagues randomly purchased more than a dozen baby formulas to test them for the presence of arsenic. He says almost all the formulas contained very low or trace amounts of arsenic, including those that had rice starch.

“And then I selected two other formulas that I found in a local supermarket, brought those back to the lab, tested them and they turned out to be 20 to 30 times higher than any of the other formulas that we tested. So when we get an anomalous result like that, we retested this and got the same results again.  And at that point I turned a jar around and looked at the label and the first ingredients in that label were organic brown rice syrup,” Jackson said.

Researchers found high levels of inorganic arsenic, the most toxic form, in soy based formula.

Jackson explains that growing rice needs a mineral in soil called silica.  But Jackson says arsenic is chemically a lot like silica, and the growing rice plant takes up both silica as well as arsenic, which is also in the ground. When the rice is fermented to make organic rice syrup, Jackson says the arsenic dissolves easily in the watery brew and becomes part of the syrup.

For this reason, Jackson urges parents to read the label on baby food products and to think twice before purchasing infant foods that contain organic rice syrup.

“I would recommend that.  Obviously the amount of arsenic –  it varies in rice depending upon the cultivar of rice, where the rice is grown — so you are going to get that same variation in brown rice syrups.  It’s true that rice as a grain takes up more arsenic than other grains,” Jackson said.

The U.S. Food and Drug Administration issued a statement saying it is not aware of any baby formulas that contain organic brown rice syrup.  An agency spokeswoman said FDA regulators are studying aresenic in all rice and rice products and could issue recalls after the report is completed later this year.

An article on arsenic concentrations in baby food and other products is published in the journal Environmental Health Perspectives.

While a protest by religious leaders against last year’s botched presidential and legislative elections in the Democratic Republic of Congo has been quickly suppressed, U.S-based analysts and activists fear for the country’s future.

The Carter Center issued a statement deploring the suppression of a Thursday march in the Democratic Republic of Congo capital Kinshasa.

Priests and nuns were arrested by tear-gas wielding police, while several radio stations were reported shut down.

The march had been planned to reject results from last year’s vote, which protest organizers said in no way reflected reality or justice.

Mvemba Dizolele from the Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies says unfortunately international powers brushed off major problems in the run-up to the still controversial 2011 vote. These included a rule change making it a one-round contest and faulty voter rolls.

“A lot of these issues were issues that we all had flagged before that come to now bite us. So at this moment, we have a crisis where the election results were proclaimed but you have (Mr.) Kabila claiming to be the winner, you also have (Mr.) Tshisekedi claiming to be the winner,” Dizolele said.

Congo’s electoral commission declared the incumbent President Kabila the winner with nearly 49 percent of the vote to Mr. Tshisekedi’s 32 percent.

But election observers reported gross violations from ballot stuffing and suspiciously high registration in pro-Kabila areas to polling stations being burned down and security forces tying people up and voting in their place in pro-Tshisekedi areas.

In the legislative elections, more than 300 results from a new 500-seat assembly are being contested in court.  

Pro-Kabila parties have been credited with winning 341 seats to 42 for Mr. Tshisekedi’s party.

Congo expert Jason Stearns from Yale University says a best case scenario of having a revote is being dismissed.

“If you talk to diplomats, if you talk to people in Kinshasa, they look at you as if you are in la-la land if you start talking like that,” Stearns said.

But Tony Gambino from the U.S.-based advocacy group Eastern Congo Initiative says if the fraudulent election results stand, he sees many possible doomsday scenarios.

“Congo could descend into a deeper humanitarian disaster, become unstable once again affecting all of Central Africa and beyond. Surely, we do not want to see this. That is what is at stake,” Gambino said.

Gambino also points out that the International Monetary Fund and World Bank contribute about half of Congo’s budget.

“Anyone who suggests that the West has no influence, that we cannot do anything, they are just blowing smoke. It is wrong,” Gambino said.

Gambino is calling for what he calls financial consequences from international banks and donors.

He also says upcoming provincial elections should be delayed so these can be better prepared.

The United States is Congo’s largest donor country, having contributed over $900 million over the past year.  

This week, a U.S. government statement said it was still closely monitoring the electoral process and that it was deeply concerned about multiple allegations of human rights abuses by Congolese security forces.

Vijay Nambiar, special adviser to the U.N. chief on Burma, made the appeal at the end of a five-day visit during which he met key figures including President Thein Sein and main opposition leader Aung San Suu Kyi.

A U.N. press release Friday praised the changes underway, saying they have “attained an unprecedented level of initiative.”

The statement added that health, education and job creation remain key responsibilities for both central and local authorities in order to empower people to participate fully in the country’s development and growth.

The announcement comes a day after prosecutors requested Mr. Wulff’s immunity be lifted so they could investigate whether he abused his position as governor of the state of Lower Saxony.

Wulff faces multiple allegations including allowing a film producer friend to pay for his bills from two hotel stays and accepting a large loan from a wealthy friend’s wife.

Chancellor Angela Merkel, who handpicked Mr. Wulff for the primarily ceremonial job in 2010, issued a short statement expressing what she said was ” deep regret” at the president’s resignation.

Chancellor Merkel says she wants to seek a consensus from main political parties on a new president.

She postponed a trip to Italy Friday, in anticipation of President Wulff’s resignation.

Long it takes for the Hannah Montana star, Miley Cyrus, and she no longer leaves the club in the teens. If you look at her latest film project, a closer look you get the feeling that the former teen star wants to turn into an adult woman. Under the motto “Good boy was yesterday – and wild adult is hot right now” she is transformed from the shy tales of hot young ladies. In her new movie “LOL”, the American starlet shows very wicked and totally sexy.

See this scene

First sex on film camera

For many teens, the first sex to adulthood is one of them as the Amen to the prayer. After Cyrus will soon leave the club in the teens, the date it is 23 November, they can not just pneumatically deflower previously. Her official first sex scene on the canvas celebrates the teen star that is in the movie “LOL”. In addition to Cyrus Demi Moore plays in the Hollywood remake of French hit comedy “LOL (Laughing Out Loud)” with.

the plot

The mother-daughter comedy “LOL” turning around the love troubles of the 15-year-old Lola (Miley Cyrus) who is betrayed by her friend and comforts himself with his best friend. The 40-year-old mother (Demi Moore) who still suffers from her divorce, has to do with the adolescent daughter complete all hands. As part of the comedy is the mother of her daughter’s diary and begins to read it to. What she finds in it, will soon be evident. “LOL” the new movie Miley Cyrus and Demi Moore is the end of May in the Austrian cinemas.

Early Forms of Internet slang include words like: Noob or Flame. Which primary were single words used to describe someone of the perticular requirements. This short list, then gained a number of abbreviations, such as: Lol (lough out loud) or AFK (Away from Keyboard). At the time, these were used on social networking sites and instant messengers, as a way of saving time, and showing emotions.

Shortly after, Internet Slang was being used a lot more; and progressed past the stage of time saving. It was now a ‘language’, and people began using it, even in simple things like emails. However, it soon progressed passed this, and, as it is today, is used in actual conversations, as well as in writings and reports.

Despite all the above, a study was done on a group of students, and it was found that 90% of them, still used internet slang, far less than their normal english, and that they still had reasonably reading and spelling.

This has been axxy,

Cya